


the best part

by Racethewind_10



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racethewind_10/pseuds/Racethewind_10
Summary: It's a simple thing - a cheap coffee maker Alex has no personal attachment too - but Alex understands sometimes its the smallest straw that finally breaks everything and the anniversary of Krypton’s destruction is only days away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @kutekoolkat on tumblr and posted with permission. yes that's an homage to the Folger's jingle. ~~Not that Alex would be caught dead drinking that swill~~

The sharp crack of glass shattering yanks Alex out of a deep sleep. Heart in her throat, muscles moving from hard-won memory the gun is in her hand before she’s finished drawing her second breath, fingers stinging from where they’d collided with the edge of the nightstand. She doesn’t shake, not anymore, just swallows and swallows and swallows her heart down out of her throat, teeth biting hard on the inside of her cheek as she fights her body’s instinct. She wins (she always wins) her hands are steady, body ready to meet whatever threat -

The soft sound of fluent (and creative) cursing in Kryptonese reaches her ears and Alex almost groans, tension pouring out of her like water from a shattered vase. Or coffee pot, if her Kryptonese isn’t too rusty. Flopping back on the bed like an over-dramatic teenager she clicks the safety on her gun, the soft ‘snick’ followed by a louder clatter when Alex lets the Glock drop on the nightstand. She’s not mad, but as her ribs slowly open again and all the adrenaline shakes itself out of her bones she kind of maybe wants to scream.

Only a little though.

So much for sleeping in.

Alex isn’t at all surprised to walk out of her bedroom and find glittering shards of glass, a twisted black plastic coffee handle and a very large brown puddle of what Alex’ nose tells her is the expensive stuff Kara brought her last week covering the kitchen floor. In the middle of it all, wearing an oversized white button-down and that particular expression that’s half furious and half kicked puppy Alex swears is genetic, is Astra. She’s got towels in her hand and that particular set to her jaw that says underneath the rigid calm is a storm of emotions. It’s taken a long time but Alex can read them with the same ease (and care) with which she avoids the slivers of glass glinting on the ground as she makes her way to the other woman. Guilt, shame, frustration, longing. All there in Astra’s eyes. That warm, expressive mouth Alex has kissed so many times pulls downward into a grimace as Alex holds out her hand.

“Hey.”

“I wanted to let you sleep,” Astra says softly, looking away, eyes dropping to the mess. Hands that can tear a building apart hold a dripping brown rag listlessly. It’s a simple thing - a cheap coffee maker Alex has no personal attachment too - but Alex understands sometimes its the smallest straw that finally breaks everything and the anniversary of Krypton’s destruction is only days away.

“I got plenty of sleep last night,” Alex replies gently, waiting for Astra to take her hand and rise. She does, eventually, (Astra always finds a way back to her eventually) and on top of the warmth of her skin Alex feels spots of warmer liquid. There’s an abstract brown stain across the front of Astra’s shirt. Alex kind of likes the shape. Or maybe she just likes the way it plasters the fabric to Astra’s skin so she can clearly see the curve of her breast.

“But I wanted to surprise you,” and there the fury gives way to what Alex will never ever call out loud the ‘sad puppy’ look. It makes her ache though, the tenderness with which Astra regards her, the way she tries so hard to fit into this life they’ve somehow created from all the broken pieces. Most of the time she’s good at it, taking to normal domestic chores with a fondness that would come as a surprise to most. (Not Alex. Alex always knew better. Astra, like Kara, just wants a home. And so every time Alex lets her fold laundry or she cooks breakfast, its one more reminder this planet isn’t just a place to live out exile anymore.)

But it will never be where Astra was born. Where she’s _from_. Her first language will never be Alex’ and some days - like today - that cuts deeper than others.

Just because Astra can’t bleed doesn’t mean Alex doesn’t see the wounds.

Slowly, gently, Alex takes Astra’s hand between her own, eases the rag from her fingers to drop it carelessly in the sink. Keeping her eyes on Astra’s face she brings that hand to her mouth and kisses the tip of Astra’s index finger. Then her knuckles. Then the back of her hand. She watches Astra’s eyes slowly darken, frustration bleeding away to hunger as Alex’ tongue darts out, licking away the bitter liquid still clinging to Astra’s skin. When Alex takes one of Astra’s fingers and slowly sucks it into her mouth, she’s rewarded with a soft gasp and white teeth biting a full lower lip. It’s very clear the coffee pot and the mess are rapidly being forgotten.

“Alex,” Astra whispers and _fuck_ , but the way Astra says her name never fails to make Alex wet.

“I don’t need coffee right now, Astra,” Alex says, laving her tongue along the sensitive tip of Astra’s finger. “I do, however, need you.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before she’s picked up and the room blurs, the soft impact of her back against the mattress making Alex laugh, and then nearly choke on the sound as Astra tosses her shirt aside, flawless skin and firm breasts with hardened nipples bathed in the early morning light.

“Definitely, definitely don’t need coffee,” Alex murmurs. She reaches for Astra and smiling at last, Astra takes her hand.

 

Fin

 


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